Those Condemned
by An Orange Peon
Summary: Whipping branches and grasping thorns tore at her skin and clothes, shredding them and leaving scores of cuts and gashes. Blood trickled from them, leaving small droplets behind as she urged her rapidly flagging legs onwards. She fled so that she could live. So that even for a second longer, she would live. And so there was rain, and blood, and those condemned.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Whipping branches and grasping thorns tore at her skin and clothes, shredding them and leaving scores of cuts and gashes. Blood trickled from them, leaving small droplets behind as she urged her rapidly flagging legs onwards. She was fleeing. She was fleeing from the one who sought to kill her. She had no right to live. Justice demanded that she die for her sins. But justice had never been of much concern for the Witch of Betrayal. After all, if justice had never been granted to her in life, why should she respect it in turn? She would live. Even for a second longer, she would live. Even with death coming for her, she would live.

And there was rain, and blood, and the Witch condemned.

She chanced a glance over her shoulder. Silence. Darkness. A forest still. Had death stop coming for her? He ran on swift feet, while hers was slow. Had he been chasing her, he would have caught her by now.

A stray root tangled her foot, and she rolled over into the mud. Her chest heaved up and down as she laid there, catching her breath. Slowly, she pushed her upper body back up, but no more than that. Her body was weary, and more importantly, what was the point? Even if he had stopped hunting her, it could only be because she was doomed either way. With no Master to anchor her to this world, she would soon fade away. She was not certain how long she had left. Hours. Minutes. Perhaps seconds. It did not matter. They would pass, and she would die.

And there was rain, and blood, and only time.

She dragged herself to the trunk of a tree and leaned her head against it. Her hood had fallen away during her flight, so she pressed her bare skin and hair against the rough and wet bark. A small comfort, but in such a moment, she grasped at every comfort she could get. She sobbed and the tears intermingled with the rain that fell through the branches of the forest.

It wasn't fair. She knew that she sounded like a petulant girl, but still she sobbed to herself. It wasn't fair. All she wanted was a second chance at life. For that, she would do anything, but fate would not permit such an impossible wish. She was doomed to a life of betrayal, and she knew it. Her king, her lovers, even her Master had betrayed her. This was life. This was fate. This was her condemnation.

And there was rain, and blood, and then the miracle.

He appeared, hands in pockets and unmindful of the rain that fell upon his hooded head. She turned her head to him languidly. Blood was splattered on his clothes, but they were being washed away by the rain. She wondered, briefly, where the blood had come from. He did not look injured, meaning that blood was not his own. He looked back at her with a frown.

"Are you okay?"

She opened her mouth, then hitched as fresh tears fell from her eyes.

"Save me," she whispered. "Please, save me."

He nodded and gently scooped her up in his arms, uncaring of the mud from her clothes caking his own. Closer now, she studied his face more carefully. Was it concern that she saw there? Pity? Or was this yet another human who would seek to take advantage of a woman lost and alone and in desperate need? Was it not even that, and instead mere indifference? She could not tell, not with her heavy eyelids starting to droop shut.

And so there was rain, and blood, and those condemned.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

She dreamed of the sea. That warm and lovely sea. It lapped at the sands with its waves and the orange setting sun cast its light upon the waters, setting it aflame. But in her eyes, even the indescribable beauty of the world paled by far in comparison to the one who stood by her.

He was there, tall and strong and smiling at her. She loved him. She loved him beyond a shadow of a doubt. For him, she would do anything. She would plot and connive against his foes. She would bear his children. She would raise him up above all others. Nature was nothing in his magnificence. Other men could not be compared. Even the gods were lessened in her eyes. For her, there was no other god but him – Jason.

She reached out to him, hand cupping cheek and smiled back at him. She would live out the rest of her life with him. In complete devotion to him. There was only one thing she asked for in return.

"Stay with me."

He nodded and joy took her heart. They embraced and fell to the sand. They clung to each other and moved with indescribable passion, hot and fervent. The sun set on them, fading over the horizon, but they paid it no heed. Day and night mattered little when they had each other. The warmth of the sun could not compare to the warmth he filled her with. It scorched her, and she embraced it. The sun was cold to her.

She pressed her lips against his and then moved, feeling his flesh against hers. The moon was dim, but she did not care. She loved the sight of him, yes, but she loved his touch even more. For that, she did not need to see.

They continued, and she hoped, prayed, that she could share with him even a part of the boundless love she had for him. She wanted, _needed,_ him to know. He needed to know that no part of her was hers alone anymore. All that she was, all that she had, was his now and forever. There was only one thing she needed in return.

"Stay with me."

Again he nodded, and once more her heart trembled. She laid her head down against his naked chest and closed her eyes. They did not move, only breathed. She was content, satisfied beyond measure as she listened to the song of his heart. Like a gentle drumbeat, it soothed her. Here it was. Happiness.

The moon fell, and the sun rose again to take its place.

At his gentle urging, she rose reluctantly. He stood facing the sun, and she followed. One arm, strong and corded with muscle, wrapped around her. She knew then that no shield could ever make her feel as safe as she was now. No arrow could reach her. No sword could slay her. With him, her god, here, she was safe and loved.

Then he looked away. Away from the sun. Away from her. She panicked. Had she done something to displease him? Had she been inadequate? No, no. She could change. She _would_ change. There was nothing she would not do for him. All she needed was one thing in return.

"Stay with me."

His arm fell away from her and he began walking away. She fell and grasped at his legs, tears streaming from her eyes as she pleaded with him.

"Stay with me."'

He shook her off and continued walking. She looked past him, towards where he was walking to, and saw her.

She was young and beautiful, garbed in finery beyond compare and a crown of jewels on her head. Then she looked at herself and saw only a tattered robe, messy with sand and reeking of ocean salt. She felt her head and knew there was no crown adorning it. There was nothing she could do to compete with this girl. She possessed no wealth, no kingdom, and not even youthful age. Even so, she begged him.

"Stay with me."

He stopped and turned to look at her, and her heart fluttered with hope. But that hope quailed and died underneath the unforgiving ice in his eyes. He opened his mouth and spoke only a single word.

"No."

* * *

Medea woke from the dream with a start, and immediately a taste of bitterness flavored her conscious world. She had thought she had buried that memory deep within her heart – so deep that she had long since ceased to consciously repress it and did so automatically. But in her sleep, her subconscious had risen to the surface, unbidden. It was almost welcoming, the distraction of her final hours.

She could feel it. Her prana stores were dangerously low. She had hours left, maybe. Minutes, most likely. Perhaps even only seconds. She could not be certain of anything, save that she would not survive the day's end.

"Are you all right?"

The hooded man spoke to her from where he sat, casually leaning against the opposite wall as he stared at her almost studiously. The room they were was a rundown place, though that, Medea noted acerbically, was putting it mildly. The very walls of the place were almost pulled off their framework. The ceiling had many cracks and holes in it which allowed rainwater to sieve through like a poorly patched net. The result was a moldy stench that pervaded the room, and the many insects that now called it home. Impossibly, the mattress strewn upon the floor, the one she had been set to lay upon, reeked even worse.

"It smells," Medea said, wrinkling her nose.

"That's not surprising," the hooded man replied. "I grabbed that mattress out of a dumpster."

"You live here?" Medea couldn't help but ask. It was difficult to imagine anyone would live in this hovel. Even subjecting oneself to the outdoors seemed to her a better option. At least the air was fresh and clean.

"No," the man replied. "But I needed a place to check you over. This just happened to be the nearest place."

"Check me over?" Medea echoed and looked down at her body. She had been stripped away of nearly all her clothes, which had been folded into a crude pile beside her, and was left only with her undergarments. Had it not been for the clean bandages wrapped around her wounds, she would have been far more offended. As it was, she measured herself in a clinical fashion.

Thanks to the first aid, her bleeding had stopped. She was not in danger of returning to the Throne of Heroes due to blood loss. Which, at the very least, delayed her imminent end.

"You are a healer?" Medea asked.

"A doctor," the man replied. "Sort of."

Medea arched her eyebrow. Despite herself, she found herself curious about her savior. His facial features and skin tone suggested he was not a native of this far eastern island. Coupled with his mannerisms and the fact that he had brought her here, she could not help but think that he was of a criminal background. A disgraced healer, perhaps.

"What do you mean by that?"

The man hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "I guess you could say I practice without a license."

"I thought as much." Medea sighed. "Your work was well done, but pointless – I am dying."

"You should not think that way," the man frowned. "Psychological expectations and willpower are key to full recovery."

"It does not matter. I am dying."

"Your wounds, while severe, are not fatal. You'll survive."

"You do not understand, _human,_ " Medea snarled. "I. Am. Dying."

The man blinked and stared at her with a neutral expression.

"Then explain."

"What I mean is that you should not be fooled by my appearances," Medea snapped. "I am not a human like you. I am a Servant, one of the seven spirits of long dead heroes called upon to this age to fight for the Holy Grail. But without a Master, I do not have an anchor to keep me rooted to this world. My injuries are unimportant. I am dying."

"I... see."

Medea snorted. "You do not see. Nor do you believe me. Irrelevant. I thank you for granting me a brief time longer upon the physical plane, but now I ask you to leave me."

But the hooded man did not stand up to leave. He did not even move, save for the hand that came up to cover his mouth in a ruminating gesture.

"You're pretty solid for a ghost."

"I'm a Servant. It is different from being a ghost."

"Who're you supposed to be, then?"

" _That is none of your business,"_ was what she almost said, but refrained from doing so at the last moment. Instead, she replied:

"Medea. Medea of Colchis."

Both of the man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "From the Argonauts?"

"The same."

The man frowned. "You're not someone most people would call a hero."

"In my own tale, in my own legend, I am what playwrights might call a tragic hero."

"You killed many people," the man stated. "Including your brother and children."

"Not by my will," Medea snarled. "Not by my choice."

"Then whose?"

Medea glared at the hooded man, her eyes burning with anger. His incessant questioning was bringing up memories she had no wish to recollect, and she just wanted him to _stop._

"Do you think I wanted to do any of the things I did?" she spat. "It was the Age of the _Gods._ They, the gods, rolled their dice, and we humans could do nothing more than to obey their whims. To defy them would have been more impossible than it would be for you to grow wings and fly."

Inwardly, Medea wondered why she was revealing so much to a stranger whom she did not even know the name of. He was not someone she could trust, yet she was speaking without reserve. Perhaps it was because she would soon disappear and she wanted to vent her bitterness at a cruel and unfair world to someone before she did.

"All that I did," she said, the words spilling out of her mouth almost faster than she could articulate them, "all that I had become, was because of the gods. They compelled me to love Jason with all my heart. _All_ of it. For him, I gave up everything willingly. My family. My home. My very soul. Everything was taken away from me, and I watched it all leave _happily._ And now, here I am, dying in some dirty hovel and the only witness is a stranger I don't even know the name of!"

Silence reigned in the room, while Medea's chest heaved up and down from her outburst.

"Well?" she snapped. "Say something."

"Alex Mercer."

"... Excuse me?"

"My name is Alex Mercer," he said again. "And if you'll let me, I want to help you."

Medea blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You said you need a Master to remain in this world, right?" Alex said. "Then let me be your Master."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You can't," Alex said. "Like you said, I'm just a stranger. But if you don't wish to die yet, then let me be your Master."

"You realize I cannot offer you anything," Medea said very deliberately. "Nor can I promise that you will be safe with me around. My enemies would become your enemies, and as my Master, they would target you first. Are you still willing?"

"Yes."

"Then let me drink your blood."

For the first time, Alex's face faltered, showing surprise and dismay behind the stoic mask he had maintained the entire night. "What?"

"You are not a magus," Medea said. "You do not know how to establish a contract as a Master, so I must guide you through it. In order to do that, I'll need your blood, as it contains a bit of your life force, which will give me enough energy to stabilize my existence until the contract is made."

Alex shook his head. "I can't do that. I can't give you my blood."

"So you lied to me."

"No, you don't understand," Alex said. "I am... diseased. If you drink my blood, you will die."

"I will not," Medea said. "I am not a human. Thus, no earthly disease can affect me."

Despite her confident words, Alex still hesitated. "You're certain of this?"

"Completely."

"All right, then," Alex said. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Medea said. "Now, please come here and hold out your hand."

As Alex did as he was told, Medea forced herself to sit up. Within her hand, a jagged dagger, its blade iridescent with poisonous colors, materialized into existence. "Hold still."

Quick and smooth, Medea made a long cut on Alex's palm, and as the blood began spilling out of the fresh wound, Medea brought her lips to it and drank as a greedily as a man dying of thirst.

Power overflowed from within. Her head and back arched backwards and she gasped in surprise at the sheer _volume_ of prana that she had just consumed. Her former Master was a skilled magus in his own right and of his own time. But the energy she had received from just a drop of this man's blood far outstripped what he had been able to provide for her. Even if only temporary, it was like receiving prana from over a dozen Masters. The sheer rush of it was thrilling. And if she had received such a boost from just a bit of blood, she could only imagine the level of power she would attain once the contract was established proper.

She could do it. With him, she could obtain a second chance at life.

She could win the war.

"Well, damn," Alex murmured. "You weren't lying. You really aren't human."

"You only believe my words now? Why?"

"Because if you were human, you would be dead or dying about now," Alex said. "Or worse."

Medea smiled faintly, almost wryly.

"I have spoken no falsehoods this night," she said. "I am Servant Caster. And you – Alex Mercer, you are my Master."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

What surprised Medea most about her new Master was the calmness with which he accepted the strange twist of fate that roped him into the world of magecraft and death. Even now, as she used her magics to scry the location of their enemies, he merely watched with a curious gaze, instead of the shock she had expected. Had she underestimated the flexibility of mind of the modern man? Or was her Master simply not one wont to surprise?

"It is done," Medea said, as the fog cleared from the crystal orb floating in front of her.

"You've found them all?" Alex asked.

"Yes and no," Medea answered. "Many of the other Servants cannot be tracked, hidden as they are by their Master's bounded fields. But that is telling enough in its own way. I need only to look for the places I cannot sense them in, and that is where they will be."

"Okay," Alex nodded. "Then let's go."

Medea blinked. "Go, Master? Go where?"

"To their bases. The bounded fields, or whatever," Alex said. "If we know where they are, then we should strike first."

The Servant suppressed the urge to sigh and rub her temples.

"Master," she said patiently. "To so boldly assault the stronghold of any competent magus is the height of foolishness, and invites only death, especially when they too have a Servant on their side. Moreover, my abilities are not well suited for such direct confrontation. We must be careful. Subtle. More meticulous in our planning."

"What do mean?"

"The fact that I've been able to locate them is already an enormous advantage," Medea said. "While our enemies still scrabble for information, we can move to take the advantageous grounds. If nothing else, we must leave this place," she gestured around at the dilapidated room and wrinkled her nose. "Its odor offends me greatly."

Alex snorted. "You have any place in particular in mind?"

"Two," Medea said. "Either the church near the outskirts of the city or the temple in the mountain. Both are on spiritually rich lands, which would allow me to erect strong defenses."

"If both are good, do you have any preferences, then?"

"The latter," Medea said immediately. "Though I do not who did it, there is is an old and powerful barrier all around the mountain, save for the stone stairs that lead up to it. It acts to deter us Servants. If I focus most of my defenses on the sole avenue of entry, even the most powerful of Servants would think twice before attempting to assail us."

"But there are people living there, aren't there?"

"It is a simple matter for me to tamper with their memories," Medea said. "We will be treated as honored guests."

"Will that hurt them at all?" Alex asked, frowning deeply.

"No," Medea said. "There won't be any lasting effects. If you'd prefer, I could even have them all leave the temple for the duration of the war, though I believe that would be as good as announcing our location to the other Masters."

"You don't need to go that far, Medea," Alex said. "I just wanted to make sure. Should we leave now?"

"As much as I would like to leave this foul room," the Servant sniffed disdainfully, "there are still other matters to discuss first. Master, from now on, please address me simply as Caster."

"How come?"

"It is to conceal my identity," Medea explained. "Were our enemies to learn of my true name, my legends, and therefore my associated abilities, would be revealed to them. In order to prevent that, all Servants are addressed by a class name related to their skill set: Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Berserker, and Assassin."

"I understand, Caster."

"Thank you," Medea said. "But even more importantly, do you know what our greatest advantage and weakness are in this war?"

"No."

"Our advantage is that you have an incredible level of prana, far surpassing what I thought possible for the modern man," Medea said. "Our weakness is, despite that, you are not a magus. In battle, I will not be able to rely on you to support me."

"You can't just teach me magecraft?" Alex asked. "You _are_ Caster, right? A wizard."

"Magus," Medea corrected. "I could teach you, yes, but it would take months, if not years of diligent training before any fruit would be borne. If we win this war, I'll be more than glad to give you lessons, but we simply do not have the time now. But there is something else we can do. Something better. A game-breaking move."

"Don't beat around the bush," Alex said. "What is it?"

"I propose, Master, that we summon another Servant."

Alex cocked his head. "Can that be done?"

"Normally, no. For various reasons, Masters can only summon and contract one Servant," Medea said. "Going past that limit would put far too large of a strain on them to properly function as maguses. Indeed, I'd imagine they would have difficulties just moving their bodies. But you possess that capability. If I summon a Servant, I could anchor it to you, and you would be able to sustain the both of us."

"That's fine," Alex said. "But are there any Servants left to summon?"

"Just two," Medea replied. "Saber and Assassin. I'd prefer to summon the former, but as we do not have a catalyst, it will be up to fate to decide what I summon. Either way, we would gain sorely needed battle strength."

"All right," Alex nodded. "Let's do it."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Under the silver glow of the moon, two heroes fought. One was a knight clad in red; the other, a warrior in blue. The red knight held in his hands twin swords – Chinese daos – of opposing colors. One was whiter than the moon above, while the other was darker than the night that clung to them. The latter wielded a spear as crimson as the blood it sought.

This was a battle that myths were made of. Every swing and thrust of their weapons were as irresistible as a torrent. Every movement of their body was like a dance in high motion. And regardless of the fact that neither had yet to land a blow on the other, the tension in the air was as palpable as their bloodlust.

From a small distance away, watching with calm, was a young girl with long black hair. The marking on her hand signified she was no mere observer. Like the legends, she too had a stake in the outcome of this battle, and she was determined to see it through.

But from even farther away, much further than any of their senses could perceive, there was another who watched them.

From the safety of her fortress, the Princess of Colchis observed.

* * *

Medea's luck had never been the most fortunate. Even as a Servant, that held true, considering the type of Master who had summoned her. But as of late, she felt that her luck was changing. By chance, she had found another Master, one who essentially gave her near total reign to carry out the war however she pleased. She relished that kind of freedom.

Whereas most people would have protested over the mental tampering of the monks of the temple, Alex allowed it with barely a word of objection. She wondered to just what extent his disposition would permit her to do. There were so many humans in this town, after all. So much prana just ripe for the reaping.

After a moment of contemplation, Medea discarded the idea. At present, the risks involved made such an action undesirable. The gains in prana did not sufficiently warrant giving away their presence, especially when they were taking pains to quietly build a strong base of power.

Medea's room was small and bare of luxury. There was a futon laid on the floor for her, a low-rise desk, and a closet with a few spare clothes the temple loaned to any unfortunate traveler. She sat at the desk, with a small cushion laid on top of it, on which her crystal ball lay.

The sliding door opened with a shuddering sound, and Alex walked in.

"Master," Medea said. "Come look. I have found our enemies."

Alex went over beside her and leaned over to peer into the ball. From the corner of her eye, Medea took a closer look at the man.

His hood, like always, was kept up, concealing most of his head. But she could see that he had strong features. She might even go as far to say that he was handsome, if not for the paleness of his skin and the bags under his eyes. If they were not signs of illness, as Alex claimed to be, then they were certainly that of exhaustion. Yet, paradoxically, her Master appeared neither sick nor tired. He moved with purpose and with smoothness and ease. The spark in his eyes were keen and focused. If he was sick, then he was by far the healthiest victim she had ever seen.

But with him so close to her, Medea felt something was peculiar about her Master. He was quiet. Unusually quiet. Yet, she could not quite put her finger on it.

"That one," Alex interrupted her thoughts. He was pointing at the red knight. "Is he Saber?"

Medea quickly reorganized her thoughts and shifted her attention back to the fight shown through the orb.

"Strangely enough, no," she said. "He is Archer."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "What kind of archer doesn't use a bow?"

"My thoughts exactly," Medea said. "If I were to guess, I believe he may be trying to conceal his identity as a hero by not showing his true Noble Phantasms."

"What are 'Noble Phantasms?'"

"The crystallization of the myths and legends that surround us Heroic Spirits," Medea explained. "As Servants, they become our greatest weapons, and our most identifying trait."

Alex frowned. "I don't understand."

"Take myself, for example." Medea opened her hand, and a jagged, iridescent dagger materialized into her grip. "I am famed as the Witch of Betrayal. Thus, my Noble Phantasm, this Rule Breaker, possesses the power to annul any spell or contract." Her lips curled upwards. "Fitting, is it not?"

Alex shrugged. "Anyway, what do you want to do? We could ambush these two while they're fighting. The whole 'two birds, one stone' bit."

"It is a rather tantalizing opportunity," Medea agreed. "I am still weighing the options, but I am leaning towards waiting and watching this unfold. Let the other Servants battle it out amongst themselves. It will give us that much more time to gather information and power."

"I disagree," said a third voice, smooth and cultured. Beside the door, a man with a beautiful face and dressed in a violet kimono and a matching hakama leaned against the wall. Sheathed across his back was a slightly curved sword nearly as long as he was tall. "The Master is right. When, if ever, will you get an opportunity as golden as this?"

"Assassin," Medea scowled. "Shouldn't you be guarding the gate?"

"It occurs to me that, far more important than the gate, I ought to be ensuring the safety of our Master. What better way to do that, than by his side?" said Assassin. "And consider, Witch. If we were to defeat those two Servants now, that would leave only three more that we must face."

"You think me a fool?" Medea spat. "Consider _this:_ if we reveal ourselves to be working together, we present a common foe for the other Master and Servant pairs to unite against. We would be giving up our most critical advantage."

"Is that so?" asked Assassin. "I do not believe it. Ultimately, in this war, such an alliance would be feeble at best. They know that after they defeat us, only one amongst them will win. It would not be strange for them to attempt to weaken the others even while working together. How could such a fragile union possibly hold? Conversely, if we do nothing now and our alliance is found out later, then, assuming that such an alliance does happen, that would leave a potential of five Servants and Masters for us to contend. Though, admittedly, that could be fun, too."

"We wouldn't be discovered."

"But if we were?" Assassin smirked. "We ought to strike now, hard and fast, while we have all the cards in our hands."

Medea chewed on her lip for a moment. Annoyed as she was by the other Servant, she could not deny his words. "Very well. But Master, I will ask that you remain here."

"No," Alex replied. "I'm going, too."

"Master, I'm not saying this for your sake only," said Medea. "In a battle between Servants, it's common sense to attack the Master first. It is the quickest and surest way of emerging victorious. You would burden us with your presence."

"Now, if our Master wants to come, who are we, as his Servants, to stop him?" said Assassin.

"Must you argue against me on every point?" Medea growled.

Assassin grinned. "Only when it amuses me."

"Caster," Alex said again. "I _am_ going. This is something I want to see for myself."

Were her upbringing more crude, Medea would have given into the temptation to throw her hands in the air in exasperation.

"Fine," she sighed. "Just promise me this, Master: at the first sign of danger, you will run."

Alex nodded.

"Good," said Medea. "Then let us go. And, Assassin?"

"Yes?"

"Do not touch Lancer," she said, a murderous glare aimed at the blue warrior in the crystal ball. "I have a score to settle with him."

"But he seems like a much more exciting opponent," Assassin mused. "Oh, very well. Who am I to get between a man and a woman scorned?"

Medea glowered at the samurai.

"Damn the Grail for giving me you."

Assassin tilted his head back and laughed.

* * *

Lancer moved from rooftop to rooftop in a foul mood. Far behind him, he was leaving behind what could have proved to be a truly thrilling challenge against both an interesting Master and the Servant Saber. To see for himself what the oft-claimed most outstanding of Servants was capable of excited him to no end, which made his own Master's order that much more infuriating.

To retreat so soon after the fight began was stupid in his mind, especially since he had already revealed his Noble Phantasm to the other Servant.

Lancer stopped for a moment and turned around, secretly hoping that Saber would be pursuing him. His orders did not allow him to stay and fight her, but it did not apply if she chased after him on her own. He was disappointed to find that no one there.

With a sigh, Lancer turned back and lightly hopped off the house he was on to the empty streets below. His gait was lazy and bored, as he began walking back to his Master's base.

This night had been full of disappointments. Besides his unfinished duel with Saber, his battle against Archer had also been interrupted by Saber's Master, whom he somehow failed to kill not just once, but _twice._

Lancer shook his head and sighed again, while his spear dispersed into innumerable blue motes and vanished from sight.

He truly had the worst luck.

At the intersection of two streets, underneath the light of the street lamps, a man stood. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his head was tilted slightly downwards, hiding much of his face with the hood he wore.

"Hello, Lancer."

Gae Bolg immediately returned to Lancer's hands.

"You're a Master?" he asked. His eyes briefly flicked about, as Lancer strained every sense he could to their fullest. "If this is supposed to be an ambush, it might have been better for you to bring your Servant."

"He did."

A familiar voice and familiar spells. Lancer snarled, as he dodged the deadly strobes of lights that came from Caster's fingertips. Her lips curled upwards, as she landed down beside the Master.

"Good evening, Lancer," the witch purred. "You took such good care of me the other day, I thought I'd come to return the favor."

Lancer flicked his eyes from Caster to her Master and then back to the witch. He snorted.

"Damn. Not even a day, and you already found yourself a new Master?"

"Indeed," her lips curled upwards. "A much better one than my former one, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, I don't know about that," Lancer shrugged. "But jumping so easily from one Master to another makes you a bitch, don't you agree?"

Her lips pursed into a flat line.

"Or in your case, I guess that would make you a bitch-witch."

"I will enjoy killing you," said Caster.

A thick, miasmic mist spread along the street, and scores of skeletal warriors of various shapes and sizes emerged. Some were human in shape, standing on two legs and possessing two arms to hold their bone weapons. Others were more bestial, like enormous dogs or lizards. Despite the fact that they were individually frail, they numbered enough that Lancer could not be too careless.

The first wave of the dragon tooth warriors attacked, unleashing an onslaught of arrows before their sword wielding ilk charged forward. With almost contemptuous ease, Lancer spun his spear in his hands, deflecting the arrows coming from all directions. Using that momentum, he swept his spear outward, shattering the nearest of the skeletons around him.

A dozen glowing circles appeared behind Caster's back, and just as many beams of light flashed. These, unlike the arrows of the witch's familiars, could not be so easily deflected, forcing Lancer to kick off the ground and jump to the side.

More of the skeletons attacked him, eager to take advantage of the small opening he presented. Lancer paid them only peripheral attention; just enough so that he could strike down any attempts on his person. His focus was largely directed at the witch.

When he had gone to kill Caster at his Master's behest, she had already murdered her own Master. Without the contract supplying her with the prana she needed, she had been pitifully weak. So much so that he had a difficult time getting his heart into the hunt, at that time.

But now, she had a new Master, and with it a fresh supply of prana that allowed her to fight as a Servant, rather than flee like a coward.

Lancer grinned. He would get a good fight and get to finish an unfinished job. Perhaps this day wouldn't be such a loss, after all.

 _No, Lancer. Do not kill her. I have uses for her._

 _Are you serious?_ Lancer nearly threw Gae Bolg to the ground incredulously. _You were the one who agreed to have her killed before._

 _That was then. This is now._

 _I refuse, Master. I will not have the third fight of the night be interrupted._

 _I will use a command seal if I must, Lancer._

Lancer spat vile curses.

 _In case you haven't noticed, I'm surrounded. I doubt Caster will let me leave so easily._

 _Then fight to wound. After, retreat._

"Tsk," Lancer growled. At least that was some consolation. "Tell me, Caster. How did you know where to find me?"

"What a stupid question," said the witch. "There is nothing in this town that I do not know about. After I'm done with you, I'll go kill that Archer and Saber, whom you so kindly wounded for me."

"You're a vulture, hag," said Lancer.

"In that case," Caster replied, "you're carrion."

A blinding storm rained down on him, and though he managed to avoid the worst of the spells, many landed against him, scooping out bits of flesh from his body. Blood flowed from these wounds, and Lancer grimaced as the dazzling array of magic circles began glowing once more.

Lancer moved immediately. He could not afford to take another attack such as that. But the dragon tooth warriors clambered to get in his way. And though they were weak, frail things, barely capable of stalling him for even a second, that instant was enough for Caster to adjust her aim and attack again.

Gae Bolg knocked down a few of the spells, but again, several scored glancing blows. Slowly but surely, the witch was weakening him, shaving away at his body and slowing him to a crawl. Before that happened, he needed to counterattack.

Lancer crouched, storing energy in his legs. When the next barrage came, his legs unleashed it all to propel him forward faster than the witch could aim for him. Caster slashed her hand across the air, creating a hazy wall between the two of them. Lancer stabbed Gae Bolg into the ground and, using it like a spring, jumped clear over the barrier and landed in front of the witch.

The crimson haft of his spear struck her across the body. She made a yelping sound, before she flew straight into the wooden fence surrounding the backyard of the nearest house. Lights cascaded through that house's rooms, and then spread like a tide towards its neighbors.

The fight was over, and just in time.

Lancer turned to leave, and took a startled step back to resume his fighting stance when a purple garbed Servant made his presence known. He brought up his sword across his body, blade aimed at the spearman, and said:

"Tsubame Gaeshi."

* * *

Lancer disappeared in crimson light just as the words left Assassin's lips. The samurai lowered his blade and relaxed his stance, and clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Where'd he go?" asked Alex, looking around in confusion.

"To his Master's side, most likely." Assassin sheathed his sword. "A shame. If I had been but a quarter-second faster, I would have finished him."

Though Alex nodded, he was becoming increasingly aware that, perhaps for the first time ever, he was out of his depths. Every feat of magic, no matter how small or minor it might be to its practitioners, was almost mind boggling to him. (Not that he had yet to see any examples of "minor" magic.) While he could understand what was happening before his eyes, he had difficulty comprehending it.

"Caster," said Alex, as he approached the broken fence. "Are you all right?"

The pieces of wood shook, and the female Servant emerged from the wreckage with murder in her eyes and venom in her voice.

"Where is he?" she demanded. "Where did Lancer go?"

"He left," answered Assassin.

"You let him get away?" she said.

"His Master used a command seal before I could finish him," Assassin shrugged. Then he added, smugly, "Besides, weren't you the one who said to leave Lancer to you?"

Caster gnashed her teeth and snarled. "Be silent."

Alex decided to speak up before their argument could devolve any further.

"Should we retreat, Caster?" he said. "We already missed the opportunity to get both Archer and Lancer at the same time, and you're injured."

"No," Caster hissed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice came out much more calmly. "No, Master. I am not as wounded as you think. I managed to reinforce my body before he struck me. More importantly, as I said before, Saber is still wounded. This may be our best chance to lay them low."

"Don't lie, Caster," Assassin laughed. "You're just upset that Lancer beat you and escaped, so now you want to blow something up to vent." He shook his head, chuckling. "You have a surprisingly cute side about you."

"Do not tempt me," Caster growled, her hands itching to wrap around the samurai's neck. Or to weave a spell to do it for her.

"Enough," said Alex. "Caster, are you sure about this?"

"I am," the Servant replied.

"Then let's go," said Alex. "This war is your fight. We'll do it your way."

"Thank you, Master."

"You're okay with that, right, Assassin?" Alex turned towards the purple samurai.

"Unfortunately, as a Servant of a Servant, I do not get to make a wish, even if I were to win," he replied. "As long as there is a duel to be fought, I care not what our plan becomes."

"Good," Alex nodded. "Then how abut you two stop fighting like teen lovers and we get a move on?"

"We are _not_ lovers," Caster protested immediately. "I would be very much pleased if you never insinuate such a thing again."

"Although, that does sound interesting," Assassin mused. "Perhaps if we were both still human..."

"Then we would _still_ not be lovers," said Caster. "I would sooner burn behind the gates of Tartarus."

"I think you protest too much, too strongly," said Assassin. "It lowers your credibility. And it would not be so bad."

As Caster made a strangled noise, Alex sighed and shook his head. Servants – beings of great power and an even greater mystery beyond that of mortal science. Their luster died a little inside of him.

* * *

Rin sighed in relief when the invisible sword of the enemy Servant halted mid-swing. Crazy as it may seem, the Servant's Master had just wasted a command seal to save his enemy. Though that was made strangely more believable by the even more unbelievable fact before her.

Saber's Master was none other than Shirou Emiya. Her schoolmate. A good person. And the last person she would have expected to be a magus.

"Are you mad, Shirou?" Saber struggled valiantly against the invisible restraints of the command spell. "I could have defeated them easily, and yet you stop me?"

"Just hold on a second, Saber," said Shirou. "I have no idea what's going on here. If I'm really your Master, then you could at least fill me in."

"You would demand this with the enemy right before us!?"

"So that's how it is." Rin got back to her feet and smiled at the boy. He looked at her, and his eyes widened. "Good evening, Shirou."

"Rin?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't that obvious?" said Rin. "Like you, I am a Master. Or as your Servant said, your enemy."

"Why would you be my enemy?" Shirou said, bemused. "And what is all this about 'Masters' and 'Servants?'"

"So you really don't know what's going on," Rin murmured. "Well, I owe you for stopping Saber before she could hurt my Archer, so how about we go inside for some tea while I explain everything to you?"

"There might be a problem with that, Master," said the Servant in red.

"What do you mean, Archer?"

"I'm sensing two more Servants on their way here. We should prepare to fight."

"When it rains, it pours," Rin sighed. "You heard him, Shirou. Are you ready?"

"Ready?" said Shirou. "I still don't know what you guys are talking about!"

"Then I'll give you the bullet points," Rin replied. "Two more people like Saber and Archer here are on their way to kill us. As for you, you can either fight or run. Though, if you choose to stay and fight, how about we work together for the time being?"

"Why are there people coming to kill us?"

"Because that's the nature of the Holy Grail War," Rin answered, "which you somehow managed to stumble into as a participant. Now, are you going to fight or not?"

"Dammit all. Fine," said Shirou. "But after this, you're definitely going to tell me what the hell is going on."

* * *

It started with the witch raining light down upon the bowman and the knight. It was the bowman who met her challenge. Spells that could level buildings clashed against arrows that could do the same. Their clash lit the night sky, while on the ground, the samurai faced off against the knight.

Overshadowed by the battle between legends, the Masters quietly fought as well.

* * *

Around him, chaos had erupted. While Assassin exchanged blows with Saber with a light smile on his face, Caster was attacking Archer with fervor. The resulting noise was fireworks. Alex wondered how long it would take before someone came to investigate the cause of the uproar.

"To think there'd be Masters who would already team up with each other," said the girl with long black hair. "Should I praise you for taking action so quickly?"

"It was her idea," Alex replied, nodding briefly towards Caster, who was flitting about in the sky, dodging the incoming arrows.

"Oh, really?" the girl arched an eyebrow. "It wasn't very smart of her to bring a Master with her, then. In case you haven't noticed, it's two against one now."

Alex's eyes drifted from Caster's battle towards Assassin's. He was pressing Saber, winning, despite her invisible blade, which he dodged as if he could see perfectly. She was fighting back well, and with great skill and power. But the way her left arm lagged just slightly behind the rest of her movements, a delay so small that it could hardly be said to be noticeable, made it clear that she had entered the battle handicapped. Such leverage was all Assassin needed in their battle between master swordsmen to seize the advantage.

"That," he said, "was my idea. I wanted to see this for myself."

"A battle between Servants _is_ rather awe inspiring," the girl agreed. "But you're not going to have time to enjoy the sights."

"We don't need to fight."

The girl stared at him funnily. "I can hardly believe it, but are you a novice Master, too? Do you not understand that in a battle between Servants, it's the most basic of rules to go after the Master first?" She shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm bothering. Just stay still and this will all be over soon."

The girl raised her left hand at him, and beneath the sleeves of her shirt and jacket, Alex could see intricate patterns glow brightly on her skin. He still had no idea what sort of magic she intended to use, nor just how much harm she intended to cause to him; whether she wanted to take him hostage or to kill him outright. So he moved. Faster than she could fire off the black bullet coated in crimson, he had already stepped to the diagonal. He could tell from the way the wind whistled as it passed by his head that the bullet carried a large amount of power. Under the right conditions, and assuming the magic spell carried physical force, it could kill a man.

The girl fired more of these bullets at him, and he moved as if a series of still frames. For every bullet she fired, he dodged. And every time he dodged, he moved closer to her, step by step. He was being cautious, more so than he normally would be, but he was still ignorant of magecraft and knew not what this spell could do. For all he knew, it might very well be an unstoppable killing curse. He was wary, and in order to gain a better idea for both now and in the future, he drew out the battle.

"I said stay still!" the girl snapped. "You're just making this harder for us both!"

"Is this all you can do?" said Alex, tone neither taunting nor condescending, instead neutral and curious. If it was, then there was nothing more left for him to see.

The distance between the two had shrunk to less than ten steps. It took Alex less than a second to cross that gap and seize the girl by the neck. His right hand swatted aside her left, which she aimed at him. But as he prepared to consume her, he stumbled briefly when the red-haired boy, the girl's companion, threw his body against his with surprising strength. In that instant, the girl brought her heel swinging upwards, rocking his chin upward, and shot the black and red bullet straight into his face.

Alex hissed and released the girl. Throbbing pain spread throughout face for a few seconds before fading away. He had taken his caution too far and stepped into paranoia. The spell slightly more effective on him than a real bullet – annoying, but not deadly.

"Are you okay, Rin?" said the boy. Wisely, he kept his eyes on Alex, rather than tending to the girl in the midst of battle.

"I'm fine. Thank you, Shirou." The girl clicked her tongue. "He's fast." From a pocket on the inner folds of her red coat, Rin produced a purple gem. "Archer!"

With a lobbing pass, the girl tossed the gem high into the air, above Alex. Instinctively, his eyes followed the thing, and then widened when it turned to sparkling dust that formed a plated dome around him. Gravity multiplied many times over, and he dropped to his hands and knees, crushed beneath the immeasurable pressure, which sank even the concrete around him.

"Hngh," Alex grunted. His arms began to bend at the joints until he was prostrating before the girl. He struggled to turn his head even slightly upwards, and he succeeded enough to see the crimson clad Servant break away from his duel with Caster to aim his bow at him.

"Master!" Caster shrieked. At the same time red streaks flew towards him from the bow, the Servant of the Spell erected a barrier intersecting its path, while the purple dome holding him shattered once more into dust, the sound not unlike that of breaking glass.

But whereas Caster had turned her full attention to protecting him, Archer had merely loosed his arrows before turning his focus back to their fight. As such, he saw Caster's guard slip, and he was in the perfect position to take advantage of it.

What appeared in his hand was not an arrow. It was like a twisted horn set upon a hilt. Its very presence called the winds towards it, while it in turn crackled with sparks of energy. It radiated power, focused and aimed precisely at the Servant of the Spell.

Alex launched off the ground and dove towards Archer. Ironically, for the same reason that allowed the bowman to exploit Caster's weakness, it was now he who found himself being ambushed unawares. Just as the Servant released the bowstring, Alex's foot landed against the Servant's head.

The horn transformed into starlight, as it disappeared into the heavens. It missed Caster, but its merest passing was enough to send Caster spiraling to the ground, like a bird caught up in a tornado.

The bow disappeared from Archer's hands and was replaced by the black and white daos. A warding slash stopped Alex from stepping forward, and a kick sent him flying backwards. He grunted and twisted in midair, landing catlike on his hands and feet.

Alex straightened his back and touched his chest, where the Servant's foot had struck him. It hurt far less than he had thought it would. When he looked down, he saw the lines of gleaming purple seemingly etched onto his body. He looked at Caster, whose hand was open and aimed at him. She sighed in relief and lowered it, and the lines disappeared.

"Master," said Caster, "are you all right?"

"Better than you," Alex replied. The female Servant's cloak was in tatters, and he could see blood soaking through in many spots all around her body. She had not been hit directly, but the razor winds and her tumultuous fall had lacerated her like many knives. "I think it's time we leave."

"Yes, you may be right, Master," Caster winced. She faltered when she tried to rise back to her feet. Alex quickly leaned in to support her. "Thank you. Assassin!"

"Hm?" said the samurai. "Oh, are we done already? What a shame, Saber. It seems we must cut our duel short."

"You think you can simply run?" the knight demanded. She pressed forward with even greater fervor.

"If I must be honest, I do not enjoy fighting an already wounded foe," Assassin replied. He sidestepped to Saber's left, avoiding a downward slice of her invisible sword and shoved her back. He then backpedaled to rejoin Alex and Caster. "Tend to your injuries. We'll finish our battle next time."

Caster's cloak unfurled widely, wrapping around Alex and the samurai like a cocoon. She chanted a single word, and then they were gone.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The moment they reappeared in Ryuudou Temple, Medea's cloak unfurled from around Alex and Assassin and settled back on her own ragged frame. She hissed softly and stumbled over to her desk, which she slumped over as she fell beside it.

"Well," she murmured. "That was a disaster."

"Not at all," Assassin said cheerfully. "I had fun. Saber is a marvelous swordswoman."

"We've revealed our hand to nearly all of our enemies with nothing but loss to show for it," said Medea, "and yet all you think about is your petty duel with Saber?"

"Yes."

"Imbecile." Medea grimaced and gingerly touched one of her many wounds. "This is not good at all."

"Are you hurt that badly?" the Master asked.

"My wounds are a trifle," Medea assured him. "What I'm concerned about is that an alliance between Saber and Archer is all but assured, and Lancer's Master may seek to do the same."

"Guess we should've waited like you said after all," said Alex. "Sorry."

"What's done is done," said Medea. "Fortunately, all is not lost yet. We are well defended here, hidden and strong. We can wait and let Saber and Archer run around trying to find us. For all the reasons they allied against us, they shall paint themselves as the new target for the remaining Masters."

"What a boring plan," Assassin drawled.

"You, be silent," Medea snapped, and then groaned as the lancing pain shooting across her body reminded her why such a sudden motion was a bad idea.

"Assassin, why don't you go keep an eye outside?"

"If you say so, Master," the purple samurai shrugged, before dispersing into thousands of blue particles.

"Thank you, Master," said Medea. "That fool is useful, but he aggravates me to no end. Small wonder I've yet to change classes to Berserker."

"Is that even possible?"

"No, I believe it isn't."

Alex arched an eyebrow at her, bemused. "Go lie down and let me check your wounds."

Medea nodded and did as she was bade. With her Master's help, she crawled over to her futon and put herself supine on top of it. A small wave of her hand caused her outermost garments to vanish, leaving her naked.

"You'll need stitches," said Alex, as he carefully studied Medea's body. Some of the cuts had begun to coagulate, stemming further bloodshed. But most were too fresh and too deep or wide to properly heal over on their own. "A blood transfusion, too, probably. I'll have to raid a hospital for that." But then, struck by a sudden thought, Alex frowned and cocked his head. "Actually, will that even do anything for a Servant?"

"The transfusion is unnecessary," said Medea. "But if you could close my wounds, I would be most grateful, Master."

"Then I'll go get the first aid kit," Alex said. He stood up and left the room, and minutes later he returned with a white box adorned by a red cross in hand. He drew thread and needle from its contents and began sewing the worst of her wounds shut. Nearly an hour passed, with not a single word exchanged between the two of them. On his part, Alex was focusing intently on the operation, whereas Medea chose not to disrupt his concentration until he had finished binding shut the last of her wounds.

"Master," said Medea. "I never did tell you why it is that we fight in the Holy Grail War, did I?"

"You did." Alex began packing away the first aid supplies. "You guys fight so you can win the Holy Grail. It's right there in the name, too."

"The Grail is but a means, not the prize. What we truly seek is the power to have any wish we might have granted."

"Oh. That's cool."

"You are not excited?" Medea frowned. "It is not only the Servant who is allowed to claim a wish, you realize."

Alex blinked at her. "You mean if you win, I would get a wish too?"

"Yes," said Medea. "The Grail was originally created for the Master in the first place, after all."

"Could it change something that happened even in the past?"

"Past, present, or future. The Holy Grail is a nigh-omnipotent wishing device with power over it all."

"You never told me that. Any of that. Why didn't you ever tell me that?" Alex snarled suddenly, knocking aside the white box with an errant hand. "Fuck! You should've told me that sooner!"

"Master? What's wrong?" said Medea, as Alex stomped up onto his feet and marched over to the door. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Don't worry, Caster. Just rest for now," he replied. "I'm going to go win that goddamn Grail."

* * *

"This doesn't make sense," Rin finally said. "This doesn't make any sense at all."

"What doesn't make sense?" Shirou said from across the low-rise table between them, watching as the magus paced restlessly back and forth in his living room. "The fact that there are a bunch of psychos trying to kill each other for some kind of magic lamp?"

"Grail, and no. That makes perfect sense."

"Oh, my mistake," Shirou nodded. "Now that I think about it, it's not that uncommon having people trying to kill you."

Rin scowled. "What I meant were Caster and Assassin's Masters."

"If I may, Rin," Saber spoke up from beside Shirou. "Masters allying with one another is rare but not as unusual as you are making it seem."

"That's not what I'm talking about, either," Rin shook her head. "Don't you guys think it's weird that one of the Masters showed up tonight?"

"... No?" ventured Shirou. "I mean, why is that so confusing?"

"Think about it," Rin sighed exasperatedly. "What's the point of an alliance if you're going to deliberately jeopardize it by sending out one of the Masters involved? It makes way more sense for them to either both show up, in order to combine their full strength, or for neither of them to, to protect their alliance."

"Perhaps rather than an alliance, this is subordination," Saber suggested.

"Maybe," said Rin. "But I can hardly think of a reason why Caster's Master would willingly subordinate himself to Assassin's Master."

"Certainly, with Caster at his side, there is no reason for her Master to be subservient to another," said Saber. "Perhaps he is being blackmailed, or threatened in another form."

"Could be, yeah."

"Hey, what if that guy was both Caster and Assassin's Master?" said Shirou.

"Impossible," Rin scoffed. "Besides the fact that the Grail only allows every Master to summon exactly one Servant, have you any idea how big of a strain it would be to contract two? I don't think even _I_ could do it. And if I could, I definitely wouldn't be able to support both of them while active."

"Unless, of course," said Archer, suddenly materializing beside his Master, "he is not providing the mana for those Servants. At least, not all of it."

Rin sucked in a breath and then let out in a low hiss. "That's a possibility."

Shirou looked back and forth between Rin and Archer. "What are you two talking about?"

"Servants are spiritual beings," said Rin. "So, if they're allowed, they can gather mana by consuming human souls."

"Human souls!?" Shirou lurched up onto his feet. "What happens to the victims?"

"For all intents and purposes, they die," said Rin, simple and matter-of-fact. "Their body will continue to function, but it'll be a vegetable. They'll never wake again."

"We have to stop them, then," Shirou snarled.

"Agreed," Saber said firmly.

"Calm down, you two," said Rin.

"How can you ask us to calm down?" Shirou demanded. "People could be dying out there!"

" _Could_ be," Rin emphasized. "It's not yet confirmed. And honestly, I doubt they're doing it."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because with the amount of souls two Servants would need, there is no way _anyone_ could hide themselves for long," said Rin. "They would be leaving a trail a mile wide behind them."

"But what if they are?" Shirou pressed.

"Then we'll stop them," said Rin. "Well, we need to stop them regardless, so we'll just have to stop them twice as hard. But that's why we need to stay calm and work together, all right?"

"All right," Shirou sighed. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

"Good." Rin glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Shirou – four a.m. "It's getting late. I'm going to go home."

"I'll walk you there."

"It's fine," Rin waved him back down. "Archer is with me. Just be ready for tomorrow, or today, I guess, after school."

"Why?" said Shirou. "What are you planning?"

"Caster is injured right now," Rin smiled, "which means now is our best chance to find them, and to kill them. So get some sleep, and I'll see you later."

* * *

 **St. Paul's Hospital, Manhattan, New York**

" _Alex, it's me again."_

" _This line's secure?"_

" _Yes. Blackwatch won't be able to listen in on us."_

" _Good. Good. It's been a while."_

" _My god, man. Not just a while. Ages. Not since Firebreak. Where have you been?"_

" _Traveling. I couldn't stay in Manhattan, not with Blackwatch watching you and Dana so closely. I needed to leave. Make sure that you guys didn't become targets. And I wanted to see the world, too, with my own eyes."_

" _Why call now, then?"_

" _I need to check, how's Dana?"_

" _Ah... Same as always."_

" _Nothing's changed? At all?"_

" _Nothing. I've had doctors better suited than I am, Alex, doctors that can be trusted, to take a look at her. They say that she'll probably never wake again. And that might be for the best."_

" _What do you mean by that?"_

" _Think about why Dana is like this now. Is that something you really want for her to remember by waking up?"_

" _... Just keep her safe for me a little while longer, Ragland. I've found a way to heal her, completely."_

" _What you've found is just snake oil. There is no such thing as a miracle cure, especially not for the human mind."_

" _Maybe. But it's the only chance I got. Keep watching over her. I'll be in touch."_

* * *

The afternoon sun cast its ray down on Rin's skin. Its warmth felt good. _Too_ good, in fact. Coupled with her general lack of sleep, she was having difficulties keeping her eyes from drooping shut. Exacerbating matters was her teacher's dry, stale lesson being taught in his typical dull, droning voice.

Most of the time, Rin enjoyed her social studies teacher's classes, primarily because his stern, austere nature meant that his class was always kept quiet and orderly. Not even the most rambunctious, hormone driven teens dared to act out in front of him. But today, those strengths were only working against her.

Rin sighed and began absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers. Taking a break away from the whiteboard, she looked out the window directly beside her and rested her head on one hand.

The pencil dropped from her hand and rolled off her desk onto the floor.

Rin's eyes widened as she stared at the man standing directly in front of the school's entrance gate. He wore blue jeans, a black jacket, and a grey hoodie underneath. The cowl was up, covering his head, despite the midday heat.

And he was staring right back at her.

Time seemed to stand still, and then restarted in slow motion. The hooded man crouched, like a leopard just before pouncing upon its prey, and then Rin was in motion, scrambling out of her seat and running towards the door.

"Everybody, run!"

Behind her, wood and stone and glass suddenly shattered, as the hooded man crashed through the windowed wall. Students screamed, but Rin was already out the hallway by then. With the rest of the school in their classes or in their offices, the hall was, thankfully, empty. Rin poured mana into her legs and bolted towards the stairs, taking great, leaping bounds with each step.

Only once did Rin dare to glance behind her shoulder. The hooded man was close on her heels, and gaining fast.

 _Archer. Buy me a bit of time. Then go get Shirou._

The crimson-clad Servant appeared for the briefest of instants behind her. He swung his swords, and then vanished once again. The hooded man managed to evade the strikes, but in doing so he had broken his stride, and granted Rin the precious few seconds she needed to pass over the stairs and get onto the roof.

Without pausing to catch breath, Rin cast her hand down and quickly erected a barrier. As far as bounded fields went, it was a weak one, shamelessly slipshod and messy. But it would serve to keep the normal students and teachers out of the roof, and to avert the eyes of any faraway observer and mask the loud noises that were sure to follow.

The hooded man just as she finished. He looked around and frowned, and said, "I see. There are no witnesses around here that you need to worry about."

"Are you insane!?" Rin exploded at him. "You could bring the entire Mage's Association down on us all!"

"No," he looked at her, cold and hungry. "That's something only you need to worry about."

The older man lunged forward, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. It was only by looking at the slight tension and coiling of his muscles in his lead-up movement that Rin was able to drop to the side and roll away in time. As she rolled back onto her feet, she aimed her left hand at him, firing off Gandr shots that could have debilitated any normal human, but ones that he shrugged off with only a mild look of discomfort.

Once more, the Master reached out for her. But this time, when Rin attempted to dodge, he predicted the movement and chased her down. He grabbed a fistful of her long hair and pulled her harshly up onto her tiptoes. His spare hand clasped around her throat, and he raised her even higher, fully taking her off the ground. Then he turned, torquing his body, and, in panic, Rin reinforced her skull and spine to the very limits of her ability.

The stone roof cracked where her skull was driven downward.

Her teeth rattled, small rock chips broken off by the impact left red lines oozing on her face, and her brain shook violently in her, very fortunately, unbroken head. But though she had survived, she was no longer in any condition to move. She could only watch, concussed, as one foot came up above her head in order to grind it to bloody bits under its heel.

But then the foot jerked away, as Archer appeared with the married swords flashing. The Master leaped back, creating a considerable distance between the two, as Assassin appeared in front of him to engage the other Servant.

"Rin!" Shirou wheezed, as he ran over to her side from the roof's door. Gently, he helped her onto her feet. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right," Rin said snappishly. "I'm going to have a huge migraine after this."

"I'll get you some advil later," said Shirou. "What's going on?"

"Well, to borrow your term, that Master over there is a psycho," Rin jerked her head at the hooded man. "He wants to kill us, witnesses be damned."

"So he's insane."

"That's what I said," said Rin. "I can't sense Caster anywhere, though, so this is still our chance."

Rin reached into her pocket and pulled out three elegantly cut rubies, each the size of her thumbnail, while the hooded man began stalking over to them, making certain to give the Servants wide berth.

Rin licked her lips, as the tension of the battle began to fully weigh down upon her like a heavy mist. This other Master, whoever he was, possessed considerable skill in reinforcement. At the very least, he was better than her in that regard. Close quarters combat would be the death of her. The only choice she had left was to keep the fight here, at a range.

She brought her hand up into a throwing position, but before the rubies could let fly, Shirou roughly shoved her aside, yelling, "Look out!"

Blood splattered the rooftop, painting an eerily beautiful flower, and Rin stared slack-jawed at the tentacle that had impaled Shirou through the his guts. The entire length of the black appendage was lined with flat, glistening, silver-colored blades, while its end was tipped by two spear-like spikes, wet and crimson, each barbed and long enough to run completely through Shirou's body. Rin followed the length of the bladed tentacle all the way down to where it grew from the hooded man's shoulder. Then she screamed:

"Shirou!"

The hooded man reeled Shirou in, like a fish caught on a line. But as Shirou was being dragged, a sanguine trail left in his wake, Rin saw his mouth move, too quiet to be heard, but when the mark on the back of his left hand lost another piece and a crimson light pulsed outward, she knew exactly what he had said.

Space seemed to fold upon itself then, and it spat out Saber who cleanly cut the tentacle-arm in two. She grabbed Shirou and pulled him away from the already regenerating Master.

"Rin!" was the only word of warning she got, before the Servant of the Sword threw Shirou bodily at her. She caught him and set him down, and immediately set to work trying to heal his mortal wound.

Away from Rin, the hooded man's arm unraveled into an uncountable number of black tendrils, which rewove itself into a blade nearly as long as the Master was tall and at least as wide as he was.

He spun in a circle, using the momentum to drive his weaponized arm down upon the knight from the diagonal. The sheer force of the blow nearly unbalanced the Servant, who guarded with her unseen blade. But she recovered, and pushed him away with a strong heel kick to his midsection.

Saber pursued, and after only a few engagements, she seized the advantage.

It was simply a matter of compatibility. The Master's blade-arm was large and powerful, but for that reason its motions were wide and easily avoided by one as small and agile as Saber. Against her, it was simply impractical.

The Master noticed this, and so his arms changed once more. He retreated a safe distance away from her, as four foot-long claws, each like razor sharp talons, replaced his fingers, while his arms became coiled masses of flesh in a sick facsimile of a human arm.

Where once he fought with broad, sweeping cuts, now the hooded man fought with blinding ferocity. Each attack came out swiftly and without pause, and the sheer speed and the abrupt change in rhythm reversed the flow of the fight.

Through all this, Rin had ceased trying to heal Shirou. Now, all she was doing was her best to just keep him alive. And she was failing.

Healing magic had never been Rin's strong point. Without any of her stronger jewels, there was a harsh limit to what she could do here and now. If they wanted to save Shirou, they needed to get him to her house as soon as possible.

But before that, Saber would need a distraction.

Rin clenched her fist around the rubies again. The Saber-class Servants were famed for their immense magic resistance. It was time to put that reputation to the test.

"Saber!" Rin shouted. "Brace yourself!"

The sanguine gems flew through the air and transformed into liquid fire. It bathed Saber and the Master both, blinding them equally with its flames. But whereas the flames passed over the Servant harmlessly, the hooded man burned.

From within the blazing hell, a single voice roared out above it, the words dripping with rage.

"YOU THINK THIS IS ENOUGH TO STOP ME?"

The hooded man jumped out of the fire and landed in front of her. Swollen blisters and blackened marks painted his body. The damaged flesh sloughed off of him, and new meat, whole and pristine, took their place.

He raised his clawed hand, and then his head rolled off his shoulders.

Blood splattered Rin's face, as the body pitched forward and fell to the ground with a dull thud. Behind him, in front of her, Saber stood, her sword poised in the finishing stroke, its outline now made visible by the red on it.

"Are you all right, Rin?" she asked.

"I'm fine, thanks to you."

"And Shirou?"

Rin grimaced and wiped the blood off of her. "We need to get him to my house, now."

"I'll carry him," said Saber, hefting the larger boy up in her arms, bridal style, unmindful of the blood soaking her arms and clothes and armor. Only briefly did she stop to spare a glance towards the other pair of Servants on the roof. "What about them?"

"Assassin is not the priority; Shirou is," said Rin. "Archer will catch up with us as soon as we're clear."

Without another word, Saber nodded and followed the other girl off the roof.

* * *

Medea stepped down lightly upon the rooftop, battle-scarred from the clash between Servants and Masters. She looked around and saw her Master's corpse lying prone, while its decapitated head rested several feet away. She smiled with levity and crouched down to poke Alex's body with her finger.

"My, but you are full of surprises, aren't you, my Master?"

Like a man stirred from slumber, the headless corpse arose. The gaping hole in its neck had already ceased to spill blood, and, instead, bone began jutting up through it from its spine. From there, a human skull took shape, and nerves and muscles and fat layered on top of it, while cartilage filled in most of the holes left behind. Her Master's eye sockets pooled with gelatinous fluid that hardened into eyeballs, and the hair that regrew on his scalp was covered by his cowl that seamlessly restitched itself to the rest of his clothes, which Medea now realized was as much part of him as his skin was.

When she had seen Saber raise her sword behind her Master through her scrying, her heart had nearly ripped itself free from her chest. She had screamed then, panic beyond compare wiping her mind blank. And when the Servant of the Sword had taken her Master's head, she had despaired, until she noticed that, contrary to what should have been, the flow of mana she was receiving from her Master had not stopped. Instead, it continued to pour into her as strong and steady as ever.

So she stilled her vengeful tongue and weaving hand, and watched as Assassin too came to the same realization and effected a false retreat in order to preserve their Master's illusion.

Their Master, it seems, had been concealing much from them.

She had been taking great pains to keep Alex safe, assuming that he was a normal human being. She had sought to protect him, and to that extent she kept him as far removed from the fight as she could. And all that time, he had been fully capable of standing against Servants, inhuman that he was. It almost felt like a betrayal.

She knew that she of all people had no right to complain about dishonesty or treachery, but even so, it hurt that her Master had not extended to her at least a small measure of trust by revealing that fact much sooner. For practicality, if not for sentimentality. She had, after all.

Caster bit her lip to hold back the words she wanted to say. It was not yet the right time.

"Go back and tend to your wounds," her Master told her, before jumping off the roof and gliding away through the air, unmindful of the hundreds of humans who had evacuated out of the school watching him from below.

When he was gone, and she alone, she went over and picked up her Master's old, decapitated head, turning it over in her hand slowly; meticulously studying every inch of its surface.

He was not a homunculus. Nor was he a golem or a doll of any kind. He was nothing that she recognized, which meant that he was not a creature born of magic, but of human science. Medea smiled. How interesting, she thought to herself.

Previously, she had told her Master that their greatest advantage was the vast pool of mana with which he could provide for his Servants. She was wrong. Their greatest advantage was, above all else, that he was simply not human.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Rin wiped a sweat from her brow as she closed the door to the temporary convalescence room behind her. Standing with a worried expression just outside the room was Saber. She was no longer clad in armor, but a plain white blouse and long blue skirt Rin had lent to her instead.

"How is he?" the Servant asked.

Rin smiled reassuringly, as a doctor might to her patient.

"He's fine now," she said. "I've healed the worst of the wound. The only thing left is for him to eat well and rest for a few days, and he'll be as good as new."

"Thank God," Saber sighed breathlessly.

"Come on." Rin jerked her head down the hallway. "Let's leave sleeping beauty here alone while we get something to eat. Archer is a surprisingly good cook, did you know that?"

"No," Saber answered as she followed the younger but taller girl. "I do not think that there is any Servant known for their culinary prowess."

"Wonder what kind of Servant that would make?" Rin mused as she tried to imagine Servant Cooker facing off against the other Servant classes. What kind of Noble Phantasm would such a Servant even have?

Rin pushed open the door to the dining room, where the table was set with a Japanese-style meal. They were all simple dishes, things like miso soup, tamagoyaki, fish salted and grilled, beef fried with onions and various other vegetables, but she was starving, and the aroma was heavenly.

Rin sat down and almost immediately began tearing into the meal before her, pausing only long enough to gesture for Saber to sit down across from her and indulge the same. The Servant of the Sword sat down, but she did not touch her food.

"What's wrong? Even though you're a Servant, it can't hurt to eat, right?"

"Forgive me, but I find myself not very hungry."

Rin shrugged, as she reached over with her chopsticks for the platter of meat. She chewed, and swallowed, and washed it down with hot tea.

"Your loss."

For a while, Saber sat in perfect silence, more statue than guest, waiting patiently as Rin continued to fill her famished stomach. If the Servant realized how awkward she was making the atmosphere for the magus, she gave no sign of it. Only after twenty long, unbearable minutes, when Rin had finished clearing her side of the table, did Saber speak once again.

"Rin, why do you help us?"

Rin arched one eyebrow. Was that what had been bothering Saber so?

"Because we're allies."

"A temporary measure in response to another alliance; a reason that no longer exists," Saber countered easily. "Yet, you still help us."

"Are you saying that you want to be enemies?"

"No," said Saber. "This alliance benefits Shirou and I greatly. But you... you had ample opportunities to remove one more rival for the Grail, and that would be to your advantage. Yet, you did not. Why?"

"Jeez," Rin pouted. "Do you really think that lowly of me?"

"Rin," said Saber sternly.

"It's because I owe Shirou, you know," Rin sighed. "I can't let him die until I repay him."

Saber blinked at Rin in surprise, and then a small but warm smile spread on her lips. She bowed her head once, curtly, in understanding, and the almost battle-ready tension melted away visibly from her frame.

"That," she said, "I can understand. In another time, you may have made a fine knight."

"Thanks," said Rin. "Besides, if Assassin and his Master are still out there, there's still reason for us to help each other."

"That, too, I can understand," Saber nodded sagely. "If they are anything like Caster's Master, then we must be wary."

"Yeah," Rin agreed. "I couldn't even tell what kind of magecraft that guy was using."

"I was not referring to what he could do, but rather, what he was _willing_ to do," said Saber. "There are few Masters so willing to flout the rules of secrecy as he was. If Assassin's Master is the same, we can never lower our guards."

"You're right. The school, the mall, the park. Not even the most public location would be safe. Which means that we can expect the Association to come down on us soon." Rin groaned and pressed her face into her palms. "My head hurts."

"Speaking of Caster's Master, don't you think that his actions today were strange?"

"You mean besides busting through a wall in order to kill me?"

"He attacks you, nearly kills you and Shirou, and then he dies," said Saber. "In the process, he makes sure that he attacks in the loudest, most ostentatious manner possible."

"Maybe he thought that with his level of strength, he didn't need to be stealthy?" Rin suggested. "That kind of directness gives us less time to prepare any plans or traps."

"Perhaps," said Saber. "But then, why did he never call for Caster? Not even at the very end did he use a command spell."

"Archer might have hurt her worse than we thought."

"Enough that the Master would refuse to call for her even in such a pivotal battle?" Saber arched an eyebrow. "I do not believe that. Not for a second."

Rin threw open her arms wide. "Then what are you suggesting?"

Saber drummed her fingers on the table and hummed softly to herself. "What if, and this is only a conjecture, Caster's Master is yet still alive?"

"Impossible," said Rin. "We both saw him die."

"No," said Saber. "We saw his head being cut off. In his case, that may or may not be the same as dying. After all, did we not both also see him regrow a removed limb?"

"Yeah, but..." Rin struggled to find the words to say. "Saber, we're talking about his _head,_ not an arm or leg."

"This does not exclude the possibility."

Rin swore under her breath. "Then you're saying he took a dive to make us lower our guards."

"Perhaps. No one expects a corpse to stab them from the back," said Saber. "It may also be that he perceived some disadvantage for him, and so chose to make an escape while he could. Whatever his reason, the point is that he may still be out there."

"In which case, our problem is not even halfway solved," Rin moaned. "Damn. I was hoping to avoid this, but I guess there's no choice. I'll go talk to the supervisor of the war and have him intervene."

"Is there something about that person that troubles you?" Saber asked curiously.

"He was my father's apprentice before me, so he took over teaching me when my father died," said Rin. "We don't get along."

"I see," Saber said, politely avoiding the potentially touchy subject. "If it is acceptable, I would like to remain by Shirou's side while you take leave to do so."

"I'd feel better if you did," said Rin. "My house is guarded by bounded fields that should keep away any Master, but I don't know how well they'll work against Servants."

"I will defend both Shirou and your home with my life."

"No," said Rin. "If worst comes to worst, you should escape with Shirou. If our fears come to pass, we need each other if either of us wants a shot at winning the Grail."

"I understand," said Saber. She glanced down at the food still laid out before her, and this time Rin noticed a hungry glimmer pass through her eyes. With carefully crafted nonchalance, the Servant said, "I suppose whatever happens, I should take this chance to store up on strength."

"That would be a good idea," said Rin, struggling to hide her amusement.

Saber picked up her chopsticks and reached over for some fish.

"Delicious." She meant it.

And then a car exploded through the wall.

* * *

In some niggling corner of his mind, Alex could still scarcely believe what was going on. No, that wasn't accurate. He _did_ believe what was going on, but he could not fully comprehend it. Magic barely made any sense to him. The existence of Servants, even less so. But with the Holy Grail, a miraculous wish-making device, comprehension was suddenly of little importance to Alex.

Before, in Manhattan, he had failed to protect his sister. He had allowed her to be taken away right before his very eyes by the infected and their master, Elizabeth Greene. For that she was put into a coma she had yet to wake from; indeed, one that she was unlikely to wake from at all.

With the Holy Grail, if what Caster told him was true, he could fix that. He could heal her, make her wake up. Better yet, if the Grail really was as all-powerful as Caster claimed it was, he could make it so that she had never been stolen away in first place. Prevention over cure, as it was.

He did feel bad about this. He had nothing against the boy and the girl Masters, nor even their Servants. As far as he knew, they were innocent of crimes. The most he could imagine them doing is perhaps shoplifting something small, like a game or perfume or such. They were not like Blackwatch.

But they joined the war. Like him, they wanted the Grail. He did not know what they intended it for. All he knew was that they were his competition. And competition needed to be weeded out.

He had realized upon first seeing the Servants battle that they were exceptionally powerful beings. Caster had told him before that the weakness of any Servant was the Master; the single, common vulnerability shared by all Servants, no matter how strong or weak. He had a slightly different opinion. The role of the Master was more than just a weakness. To him, it was the biggest flaw.

In the end, no matter what impossible feat they brought to bear, the Masters were human. They could tire, they grew hungry, their spirits could waver. This placed sharp limits on what each Master-Servant pair could do. Human limitations.

He had none of their weaknesses.

Through unrelenting persistence, he would grind them to dust. And if he painted himself the target for the remaining Masters in the process, so be it. In fact, he welcomed it. He wanted them to come for him. It would save him the time of searching for them. And he still had many skills he had concealed from them. Caster had already proven the potency of clairvoyance, but if they came, it would be with incomplete information. They would attack him without knowing all of that which he could do. And they would die because of it.

Within the walls of the mansion alone on the street, Alex could see three people. Their warm bodies were colored orange set against a backdrop of cool blue. The two shorter and slender ones hung in front of the third for a moment, their hands moving in the slight gestures of conversation, while the third seemingly hovered in midair. He was either lying on a bed or table, or they were using some magic to make him levitate.

Caster was beside him and Assassin then. He could feel her presence, like someone peering too closely over his shoulder. But he could not see her. Not her body nor her heat was there.

"I told you to stay behind," he said. "You're not fully recovered."

"Is not the purpose of the Servant to serve as her Master's blade?" the womanly voice replied, ambient and spoken directly into his ears. "To stay behind would be for a warrior to leave for war without his sword and shield."

"I'm my own sword and shield."

"Then it is well that I am Servant Caster," she answered as she materialized beside him. "I will be your spell."

He grunted, annoyed, and perhaps a little pleased. It was a strange thing, this war. Before Japan, he had never once fought with someone else at his side. He had people supporting him, providing him with guidance and direction, certainly, but to have not just one but two people he could rely on in battle was oddly reassuring.

"Stay close to me." The two slender orange figures moved away from the supine third. "Assassin, as planned."

The samurai nodded and disappeared, leaving Alex alone with Caster and the pile of cars gathered behind him for one purpose and one purpose only: Ammunition.

He picked up a car and threw it.

* * *

When the car broke through the wall, Rin could only stand frozen, not because of fear or the sudden rush of adrenaline, but because there was simply no time for her body to begin motion. From her seated position, she would have needed at least a second to reinforce her body and jump clear out of the way. That was a second she did not have.

It was Saber who saved her life.

In an instant, the Servant of the Sword had risen from her seat, newly clad in armor, leaped over the table, grabbed Rin, and then pulled them both away as the car broke the table and dishes to pieces and came to a stop on the opposite wall. When Saber released her, Rin felt nauseous at the sudden, lurching motion. She could feel her lunch try to escape through her mouth, but she kept it down and forced a chilling clarity to spread in her mind.

Through the large hole in the wall, far off in the distance, she could see the hooded man and Caster standing in plain sight. The monster picked up another car and hurled it, and this time Rin could see how they had managed to breach her home's defenses so easily. Runic designs lined the car; an ancient form of reinforcement of some kind, she judged, which her bounded fields could not hold back.

Saber flew out of the opened wall and her sword fell upon the car. The reinforcement magic held against the invisible blade, but as a result the momentum changed sharply downward. It landed on the lawn, and Saber landed on top of it, and then the lights and horn began to blare loudly.

In face of all this, Rin could only smile grimly. Saber was right, it seemed. The Master had survived having even his head cut off. And if that was the case, could they kill him at all?

An undying Master, his Servant, and another Master-Servant pair.

This was totally unfair.

With unspoken words, Rin called for Archer. He appeared beside her, black longbow in hand and nocked the arrow that formed directly in his hand.

"Saber!" Rin called out. "Go!"

Without looking back, Shirou's Servant charged forward. More cars and strobing beams of light came at her, but Archer's arrows stopped the cars and the spells broke harmlessly against Saber's body.

Then the swordswoman was upon them, and once more claws faced against blade. Meanwhile, Archer looked around the battlefield, the bow stilled in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Rin asked.

"There's one missing," he replied. "Where's Assassin?"

Rin pursed her lips and frowned. And a moment later, her eyes widened.

"Shirou!"

Rin turned and ran back towards the convalescence room. But just before she reached the door, it shattered into many splinters as the body of the purple garbed samurai was flung through it. The Servant stood, bloodied and with a grim expression on his face.

And then _it_ appeared, holding in its massive hand an impossibly large sword cut from stone. It glared at them, its eyes pools of molten lava, while behind it, further inside the room, a small, white-haired girl sat smiling beside Shirou on his bed, stroking his hair lovingly. Like in the dining room, here too the wall had been smashed open, allowing for access into Rin's home.

"Berserker," the girl said, her tone unnaturally cheerful. "Kill them all."

The black giant opened its mouth and roared its reply.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅"


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When Medea saw him, she almost could not believe it. He was just as she remembered. A giant amongst mortal men. Stronger and more valiant by far than any in all of history. His skin was iron. His legs, sturdy oaks. His arms, more powerful than lions.

It was he, her old friend. An Argonaut. The Legend. The Son of Zeus. Greatest of all heroes: Heracles.

But he was not exactly as she remembered him. His eyes did not shine with martial wisdom and courage. They burned, instead, with the flames of madness. There was not a trace of the kindness that had granted her shelter when she had fled to Thebes left inside of him. Who he was now was not who he was then.

Berserker.

They were doomed.

* * *

Rin felt alone.

That was not to say that she felt lonely. Just that as the only human in this battlefield of monsters, she could not help but to feel like the odd one out. If anyone died this day, chances were good that she would be the first to go.

Standing a distance away from them was the hooded man, Caster, and Assassin. They were watching both them and the new Servant, who in turn were doing the same. On the surface, it was a classic three-way stalemate. But in truth, it was Rin who was at the disadvantage.

Unlike the others, she was in danger of losing Saber at any moment. She had no idea why Berserker's Master had taken Shirou away, nor did she know how long she intended to keep him alive. But the longer the fight dragged on, the more likely he would be killed. When that happened, Saber would quickly return to the Throne of Heroes.

Therefore, unlike the others, whose goals were simply the annihilation of their enemies, Rin worked furiously in her mind on how to best escape from their current predicament. She could not be the first to move. In such a situation, it was the most tactically unsound thing to do, as it would create a window of opportunity for the other two to lay her low. Yet, neither could she afford to delay much longer.

Fortunately, one of her enemies was Berserker, and they were not a class well reputed for their intellect. The giant roared wordlessly and attacked.

Unfortunately, it was them that he went for first.

Saber charged forward to meet Berserker in melee combat, while Archer moved back to support her from afar. Rin kept an eye on the hooded man's group. They had not moved to attack, but neither had they fled. Like vultures, they simply watched and waited.

Within her pocket, Rin's hand played with a handful of jewels. Most were charged specific spells. Five were merely loaded with raw mana.

Rin's hand stilled. Now was not the time to use them.

For all her disadvantage in size and strength, Saber was doing an excellent job in fending off Berserker. Their speed was roughly equal, but the smaller size of the Servant of the Sword gave her greater agility. She made full use of it to dodge each of the overbearing monster's sword strokes by the barest of threads. Even more admirably, she was doing it with minimal assistance from Archer, whose arrows could not penetrate the giant's hide.

However, fending off was not the same as winning. Shirou's life aside, Rin did not know how much longer the vultures would be content to remain silent.

"Dammit all," Rin muttered. She drew forth all five loaded gems and threw them into the air. Whether or not now was the right time no longer mattered. She would forcibly make her own opportunity.

The multicolored jewels exploded into a shining rainfall. Rin snapped her fingers and the rain turned to a burning hell that swallowed everything.

"Saber!" Rin called out, while Archer scooped her up in his arms.

The knight appeared from the flames, completely unscathed; such was the strength of the resistance of her class. But the fire of the prodigy magus was not hot enough to stop Berserker. He merely burned with even greater anger, as he cut off their path of retreat.

Saber moved forward again, but the giant knocked her aside with a powerful backhand. He raised his stone axe-sword then to crush both Rin and Archer at once, but was stopped when dozens of Caster's bone warriors appeared from shadows and swarmed him. The slightest passing of Berserker's hand was enough to rip the skeletons apart, but for each that were destroyed, two more rose up to take their place. If nothing else, the distraction was enough for Rin and Archer to escape back a safer distance.

"You're helping us?" Rin couldn't help but ask incredulously at Caster and her Master, as Archer set her down. "Why?"

It was Caster that answered for them.

"Unfortunate as it is," she said, "we do not have the means to defeat him by ourselves. This is the best, and only, option. For all of us."

"An alliance, then?"

"A temporary cessation of hostilities."

"Agreed," said Rin, quickly. "Do you have a plan?"

"Yes," said Caster. "If your lot can distract him long enough."

"Why am I not surprised that you give us the more dangerous task?" Rin said acerbically.

Caster spread her arm wide and smiled. "If you have some means at your disposal that can accomplish the same task, then, by all means, use it."

"Archer?" Rin looked to her Servant hopefully. She was disappointed when he shook his head.

"Let's go with their strategy, whatever it is, for now," he said.

"Fine," groused Rin. "But I'm keeping my eyes on you, Witch."

"Then watch closely and learn, third-rate," Caster replied scathingly. "And bear witness to the difference between you and I."

She would never admit it to anyone, but Rin did, in fact, learn from what came next. The hooded man's arm, transformed into a giant blade, became clad in violet flames. While that alone was visually impressive, the true nature of the magic Caster was weaving was far more amazing.

Reinforcement was a basic spell every apprentice magus learned it as one point or another, though there were few that took it to a practical level. The foundation of the art lay in pouring one's mana into the gaps of an object's design in order to empower it, somewhat akin to using concrete to smooth over a pothole ridden street.

What Caster was doing spat on that logic.

She was making the blade-arm better, stronger, more elegantly designed so that it could better accommodate her own mana. Rather than filling in potholes, she was remaking the street entirely. And she was doing it on a scale so fine, so precise, that Rin had never even dreamed that level of skill was even possible.

Was this what it meant to be a magus from the Age of the Gods?

What made it still all the more incredible was that she was not doing this to herself. She was reinforcing another person – a nearly impossible task for most anyone else in the modern age.

Perhaps, Rin theorized, Caster's actions was made possible by the uniquely malleable physique of her Master. Something as rigid as a human would break from such radical changes, but it made sense that a body that already changed so freely of its own accord could withstand the alterations.

Rin heard a noise. Her head whipped back to Berserker, who had been engaging the other Servants alone. In one hand, he held Assassin by an arm bent at an entirely wrong angle. The samurai's body was broken and beaten and very, very still. By the grimace on Caster's face, Rin knew that his time was at its end.

Assassin disappeared in a burst of blue motes of mana, leaving only two more walls in front of the giant.

"Are you still not ready?" Rin asked impatiently.

"How about, instead of standing around, you go assist your Servant and stop distracting me?" Caster snapped back.

"I thought I was supposed to watch and learn from you, _sensei._ "

Caster clicked her tongue in annoyance

"You are a rude little girl," she said. "Did you know that?"

"Oh, please," Rin rolled her eyes. "The last person I want to hear that from is you, hag."

Caster glared at her. "I do believe I've come to hate you."

"What a coincidence," Rin smiled back frostily. "So have I."

After one last spiteful look, Caster turned her attention to Berserker. Her Master's arm was now so fully soaked in her magic that Rin could no longer see the blade beneath the flames. He jumped into the air, soaring, as Caster turned her craft to restraining Berserker.

Reluctantly, Rin joined her. She threw several of her jewels at the rampaging giant. Together, the two maguses brought the concrete pavement alive and created pillars of ice and raw mana in order to bind the Servant of Madness for even just a few seconds, and a few seconds was all Rin feared that they had. Despite their combined strength, Berserker ripped the stone chains, shattered the icy cage, and destroyed the magic circles with ease.

But they had succeeded. From above, the hooded man dove down on the giant. His fire-clad blade-arm sliced through Berserker like soft clay, splitting him open all the way from shoulder to hip. With a wet, dying rasp, the enormous Servant fell to his knees, head bowed and with the light gone from his eyes as blood pooled beneath him.

Rin nearly let out a sigh of relief. She only refrained because with their common foe gone, she no longer knew how Caster and her Master would react. She prayed that they would leave. They did not have time to fight them.

Caster did not turn on her. She stared intently at Berserker's corpse. Rin followed her gaze. Her eyes widened. She saw white smoke curling up and out of the giant's open body. His split flesh stitched back together, mending itself. When it was whole, the light of madness returned once more into the Servant's eyes.

"Oh, no," breathed Rin.

"▂▂▃▃▄▄▅▅" the Servant roared as it got back to its feet.

Muttering quiet profanities, Caster once more threw her spells upon Berserker, holding him down as her Master jumped and once more descended upon him. Yet, despite their proven effectiveness, this time, the reinforced blade-arm could not leave even a scratch upon the giant's skin.

Berserker grabbed the hooded man by the upper body and legs. Then he pulled outward, and blood and gore splattered all over him. He dropped the two halves of the Master and they landed on the ground with a wet thunk.

"Master!" screamed Caster.

Beams of light barraged Berserker, forcing his attention to her as a pair of skeletal warriors emerged to quietly drag her Master's body parts away. Screaming, howling, making its fury known, Berserker barreled down the street towards Caster. Rin shrieked and threw herself to the side, lest she be run over as collateral damage. Archer grabbed her, and then quickly jumped away onto a nearby rooftop.

At the last second, Caster vanished. She reappeared where her familiars had collected her Master. She scooped him up in her arms, and together they retreated from the battlefield, disappearing to a place far removed from Rin's senses.

Confused, Berserker looked around dumbly for its prey. In its moment of inattention, Rin and Archer and Saber silently, too, made good on their escape.

* * *

Shirou woke up staring at the canopy of a king-sized bed. It was soft, incredibly so. So soft that he felt as though he was sinking into a cloud. But this was not his bed. He had never slept on this kind of bed before. He wondered where he was.

The memories began to return to him then. They slipped and oozed into the crevasses of his tired mind. The battle at the school. The hooded Master and the two Servants. His own grave injury. And Rin.

Wait. Where was Rin?

Shirou tried to sit up, but found that he could not. He tried to move his hand, but that too was not allowed to him. There were no ropes or chains binding him, yet all he could do was breath and blink and look at the little girl with pale skin and hair whiter than snow that had entered the room and was staring at him from the bedside. She smiled at him.

"Hello, Shirou," she said. "Let's talk about Kiritsugu."


End file.
